The Meat in the Loaf
by FadingLaughter
Summary: Brennan learns about Booth's strange aversion to hard boiled eggs and attempts to teach him how to cook her own version of meatloaf. Fluff. B/B.
1. Chapter 1

"Eyeballs?" Brennan said loudly, brows raised.

"Yes, eyeballs. Geez, Bones, could you keep it down?" Booth shushed her, glancing around the restaurant.

Brennan took a sip of her wine. "It just seems highly unreasonable for you to assume that eggs were eyeballs. Eyeballs differ greatly from eggs. Eggs are not organs that detect light, nor do they send electrical impulses along the optic nerve to the visual and other areas of the brain. Eggs are simply a round or oval body produced by the female of any number of species, consisting of an ovum surrounded by layers of membranes-"

Booth let out a frustrated sigh and held up his hand, stopping the flow of her speech.

"I know the difference between eggs and eyes, Bones! But I was little when my mother told me that story, and when you're little, you believe things your parents tell you, right? So I just thought the eggs were eyes, and I've never been able to eat meatloaf with eggs in it ever since." Booth played with his napkin, avoiding eye contact with her.

Brennan smiled slightly, watching Booth. It was a cute story, she had to admit. And though he seemed embarrassed about it, he still chose to tell her, which she found to be oddly endearing.

Noticing that he still seemed uncomfortable, Brennan tried to lighten the mood. "So if you're ever over at my place on meatloaf night, I should skip the hard boiled egg component all together?"

Booth looked up from the napkin he was tearing up, a small smile forming on his lips.

Brennan's smile grew, and she continued. "I have been told that I make quite an angry meatloaf, Booth, so I wouldn't want you to miss out on that."

He let out a laugh, all signs of embarrassment gone. "You make a 'mean' meatloaf, Bones. Not 'angry.'"

"Yes, well, you know what I mean. What's important is that I make a damn good meatloaf and you would be missing out if you never tried it," she smirked, taking another sip of her wine.

Booth laughed louder, clearly enjoying the direction the conversation had turned. "You know, Bones, you're starting to sound a lot like me. I think we spend too much time together."

Brennan smiled faintly, looking down at her glass. He had meant it as a joke, she knew that. But a small part of her couldn't keep out that nagging feeling of doubt. Did they really spend too much time together? They had moved far past the requisite amount of time strictly professional partners spend together years ago, so what exactly were they doing? Were they friends? Of course they were. But lately…lately things had felt different, somehow.

Brennan sighed and looked up at Booth once more, noticing a small frown forming on his brow. "What?"

"You okay, Bones?" Booth leaned forward, his frown deepening.

"I-" She didn't know what to say. Her thoughts were just ridiculous. There wasn't anything different between her and Booth. He had said it himself; nothing was going to change between them.

"I was just kidding about you sounding a lot like me, you know," Booth put his hand on hers before continuing, "you are far too smart to ever sound as stupid as I do." He winked.

She glanced at their hands before looking back at him, a smile tugging at her lips once more. "You never sound stupid."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, yes, there are moments when you say certain things that are quite inappropriate and have absolutely no relevance to the conversation taking place," Booth nodded, "but you should never call yourself stupid, Booth. Besides, your statement about me beginning to sound like you did not affect my mood."

Brennan looked down at their joined hands once more, watching as Booth's thumb began to stroke her knuckles. Back and forth, back and forth…it had an oddly calming effect on her, one she enjoyed very much.

"So then what's really bothering you, Bones?"

She tore her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of their hands and looked at Booth. Honestly? She had no idea what was truly bothering her. There were a multitude of emotions and thoughts and possibilities going through her mind every time she was with Booth, no matter the situation. He had the potential to make her happy, frustrated, annoyed, and angry… sometimes even sad. But right now, she was simply confused. Having this conversation about eyeballs and meatloaf had, for inexplicable reasons, stirred up feelings that Brennan just couldn't explain.

And she hated that.

She hated the fact that she simply could not comprehend something, let alone something that was essentially a part of her being.

If she confided in Booth about her sudden inner turmoil, he would launch into an irrational tangent about her heart versus her brain, or something similar, and that would only succeed in confusing her further.

So she gazed into those reassuring brown eyes of his, smiled, and said, "It's nothing, Booth."

He leaned further across their table, gazing steadily at her. It seemed to Brennan as if he was attempting to gain any hidden knowledge that he could from her just by staring into her eyes. Which was completely ridiculous and not even remotely possible, of course. But knowing Booth, he probably could. The thought sent shivers up her spine.

When he looked like he was about to question her again, Brennan interrupted him with a quick, "Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?"

Booth looked as shocked as she felt.

But why was she shocked? And why exactly was he shocked? It wasn't as if she had asked a completely unreasonable or forward question. Booth had been to her apartment on many occasions, and on more than one of those visits she had made him dinner. Then why now were her palms sweaty?

This evening was turning out to be ridiculously confusing.

Disentangling her hand from his gently, Brennan brushed imaginary dust from the sleeve of her jacket while attempting to casually retract her abrupt question. "Did I say tomorrow? I was mistaken in thinking that I would be free tomorrow evening because I have a previous engagement that I seem to have temporarily overlooked and-"

"Now, Bones, you're not trying to back out of a dinner invitation, are you? Because that would be extremely rude, and I don't know how I would feel about that."

Brennan stopped brushing off the fake dust. She quickly looked up at him, suddenly worried that her ridiculous endeavor to try and backtrack had actually offended Booth.

Instead he was grinning.

"I seem to remember you telling me, only minutes ago, about the 'damn good' meatloaf you make, and now you've got me real curious. Since you're so busy and all, how about we make it a late dinner and I'll help you cook? It would be to my benefit to learn how to make what I've been told is the world's greatest meatloaf, and it would be to your benefit to pass on your remarkable recipe to someone, don't you think?"

Brennan damned him to hell for being so charming. "I suppose that scenario would be beneficial to the both of us, yes." Despite being trapped against a metaphorical wall, she grinned, too.

"It's a date, then!" Brennan's grin slipped momentarily and Booth corrected, "A cooking class! It'll be just like a cooking class."

They both stared at each other for a moment, and then burst into sudden awkward laughter, which turned into real laughter at how ridiculous they were both being.

Booth's laugh quieted, his voice softening as he reassured her, "Dinner sounds great, Bones. If your meatloaf is anywhere near as delicious as your mac n' cheese, then I'm in for a real treat."

Brennan couldn't stop smiling at him. And she desperately (and quite irrationally, she thought) wanted to hear him laugh again, so she simply replied, "Damn straight."

He laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Brennan paced back and forth in her kitchen, checking and rechecking the ingredients that she and Booth would need that evening. He would be arriving in a few minutes.

The thought sent her heart racing.

_Why_ was she so nervous? It was just Booth. Obviously the idea of teaching someone how to cook was the anxiety-inducing factor in this situation. She was well aware that she wasn't the best cook ever, so the thought of passing on her admittedly limited knowledge and attempting to turn that knowledge into a lesson worthy of someone else's time was pressure enough.

Yes, that was it.

A knock and a, "Bones?" startled her, causing the measuring cup she held in her hand to crash loudly onto the floor.

Shaking her head at her ridiculous reflex to a simple knock, Brennan picked up the cup and called back, "It's open, Booth!"

She made one last quick check of the ingredients, muttering their names out loud as she compared them to her recipe.

Warmth enveloped her back. "Talking to yourself, Bones? They say that's an early sign of madness, you know."

For the second time that evening, she jumped.

Brennan sighed, turning to face him. "Booth, I know you have superior skills in stealth, but you should know better than to-"

She faltered. He was very, very close to her.

He had one of those silly smiles he always seemed to wear when he was around her, and she suddenly found it quite difficult to breathe. And think, which was a rare occurrence for her. It seemed that all she could focus on were the little crinkles gracing the corners of his eyes, the curve of his well-formed lips, the way he smelled.... His was a scent that was both calming and maddening, composed of all sorts of contradictions that frustrated and enticed her, just like its source.

It took only seconds for her to be completely overwhelmed by him.

She found she really didn't mind.

But Brennan was quickly jolted out of her reverie by a hand waving in her face.

"Hey, Bones, you still with me?"

Brennan crashed back down to reality. What was she doing standing there, musing about lips and scents and eyes? Her thoughts were beginning to sound like one of those ridiculous Shakespeare love sonnets that Gordon Gordon always enjoyed quoting.

"Of course I'm still with you, Booth," she snapped. "Does it look like I went anywhere? Teleportation defies the laws of physics and last time I checked, those laws still firmly apply to me."

Brennan immediately regretted her curt tone as she watched Booth take a step back, hands held up defensively.

"Whoa, hey, I know that, okay? It's just, you just looked far away, that's all. Wanted to bring you back to Earth. You promised me a cooking class, after all."

She took a breath. "Yes, you're absolutely right, I did. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But I'll only let you off the hook if this meatloaf turns out delicious. If not…well, let's just say I won't be so quick to forgive you."

Brennan could have sworn she saw his eyes twinkle. A misconception, of course; eyes do not twinkle, the reaction observed is simply the dilation of the pupils.

Still.

She cleared her throat. "Let's get started, then."

Brennan led Booth over to the counter which contained all of the needed ingredients for the meatloaf.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Bones!" Booth picked up a bowl containing the main ingredient. "What exactly _is_ this?"

"Meat, Booth."

He sniffed the contents suspiciously. "This most definitely is not meat. I know meat, I eat meat, and I love meat. This? Is not meat."

"Okay, yes, it's not actual meat, it's even better; it's a meat substitute. You would call it a 'veggie' burger. It's a vegetable compound comprised of-"

"Mmhmm, yeah, okay, Bones, I don't need the scientific mumbo jumbo behind veggie burgers, thanks. What's important is that the _meat_loaf we're supposed to be making doesn't seem to actually contain any _meat_." Booth stared at her, eyes accusing.

"Well, I _am_ a vegetarian, Booth, you know that. And the fact that this meatloaf contains textured vegetable protein instead of animal flesh won't make it any less appetizing or delicious." Brennan put her hands on her hips, determined to win the argument she knew was inevitable.

Booth sighed. "Alright, alright, I can already tell I'm going to lose this one. I'll try your veggieloaf."

"Meatloaf, Booth. It's still called meatloaf."

"Potato, po-tah-to, Bones." He broke into song. "You say meatloaf, I say veggieloaf. Meatloaf, veggieloaf, let's call the whole thing off!"

Brennan stared blankly at him.

"Never mind."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Did you turn the oven on?"

"Yes."

"325 degrees?"

"Yes."

"So it's actively preheating?"

"Yes! You know, Bones, I'm a grown man, I take care of myself; I'm fully capable when it comes to _turning on an oven_."

Brennan shrugged and continued adding ingredients into her mixing bowl. "I'm just making sure you successfully completed the task I set out for you."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the _only_ task you set out for me. I'm supposed to be learning how to make this veggieloaf, not proving my knowledge of basic kitchen skills."

"It's a vegetarian _meat_loaf, Booth," he waved his hand at her dismissively, "and there really isn't much to do when making it besides mixing all the ingredients together."

"Well, let me do that, then. You can stand there and grade my mixing technique." He moved closer to Brennan, grabbing the hand she was using to hold the spoon.

A thrill shot up her arm at the contact.

Booth smiled, his voice lowering. "Am I going to have to use my hands to mix all this stuff up? Or am I allowed to use your spoon?"

Brennan sighed. "I will gladly let you use this spoon if you let go of my hand." She lightly slapped his wrist.

"I dunno, Bones. Now you're making me doubt if I'm going to be able to operate this spoon all by myself. I might need your help." Still smiling, his grip on her hand tightened.

She eyed him suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

He stared at her innocently, eyes widening.

"I'm going to grab the rest of the ingredients. And you," Brennan shook her hand out of Booth's grasp, "will stir."

She heard Booth chuckle quietly as she turned around, and she smiled.

"So, you should probably tell me what else is going in here as I'm stirring. I don't want you sneaking in rat poison or something without me knowing about it."

"Booth, I would never covertly put poison in any food that I would serve to you. And why would you assume I have rat poison in the first place? My apartment is completely rodent-free, I have no need of-"

"Bones," Booth waved the spoon in front of her face, "it was a joke."

"Oh." She cleared her throat and grabbed two minced cloves of garlic. "You just need to stir these in, then the parsley, thyme, and basil. Everything else is already in the bowl."

"Way to do all of the work for me, Bones, geez. What happened to the teaching part? I was hoping for a little student-teacher action, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows, eyes twinkling once more.

No, not twinkling. Pupil dilation.

She turned away from him quickly and grabbed the parsley. "I don't know what that means."

"Another joke, Bones." He tossed the rest of the ingredients into the bowl. "Okay. I mix all of this up, then what?"

"Put it in that loaf pan, and then put that into the oven. It'll bake for forty-five minutes, and after that we'll put the rest of the barbeque sauce on. We'll let it bake for another fifteen minutes, and then we can eat."

"Just like that?"

Brennan smiled. "Just like that."

"Well, that's just too easy! Even for me. You need to invite me over for a more difficult recipe next time, Bones."

Brennan regarded him for a moment, her expression turning serious. "Okay."

Booth paused his stirring, looking up from the mixing bowl. "Okay? I was just kidding again; you don't really have to invite-"

"No, I really don't mind, Booth. And you are correct about this recipe being exceedingly easy. Despite that, though, I'm enjoying this evening very much."

"Me too, Bones."

They smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Booth groaned. "This is…"

Brennan smirked. "Damn good?"

"So damn good."

She laughed. "Better than the macaroni and cheese?"

"Let's not push it. But this is definitely a close second. And I can't believe I'm saying that about a veggieloaf."

"Well, of course. The meatloaf you're use to eating usually has eyeballs in it. This, fortunately, does not."

"You know, Bones, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you almost made a joke just now."

Brennan smiled and took another bite of her meatloaf. "I was simply making a logical comparison between your mother's more traditional meatloaf and mine."

"Uh huh."

She put her fork down and watched him for a moment before speaking again. "Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really glad you told me that story."

Booth looked up from his meal. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "Good. I was hoping it would be a charming addition to what you already know about me instead of an embarrassing story that you would just laugh at."

"I would never 'just laugh at' any story you tell me, Booth. In that instance you were little and it was logical that you would implicitly accept any information from your mother as factual. Now that you're an adult…well, I suppose you are still afraid of hard-boiled eggs, so, technically, my reasoning about you no longer being scared is flawed-"

He flicked a pea at her.

Brennan gasped. "Booth! That is extremely childish."

He just laughed.

But she narrowed her eyes.

And flicked one back at him.


End file.
